


A Very Good Day (on Chaar)

by Caia (Caius)



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: D/s, M/M, Plug and Play, Season/Series 03, spark interfacing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-02
Updated: 2010-07-02
Packaged: 2017-10-11 06:28:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/109461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caius/pseuds/Caia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Galvatron is having a good day. So is Cyclonus.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Very Good Day (on Chaar)

It was a good day.

A minor victory over the Autobots had left them with enough energon to comfortably get through the next orn, so most of the Decepticon army was busy getting over-charged on their extra rations.

More importantly, Galvatron was happy. Happy and _whole_, although his plating was scuffed and spattered with energon. The energon that wasn't his own and the little scuffs of orange and yellow, red and blue paint indicated whose it might be. He had been terrifying in combat, bowling over the Autobots in his path, grappling with the Autobot Prime and Second, and sending them all into a--however temporary--retreat. Cyclonus had followed along behind, supporting and defending and glorying in his Lord.

Sometime soon (if it continued to be a good day, and how many days _were_ good, on Chaar?) Cyclonus would be allowed to wash and repaint him, and he allowed himself to look forward to that. But for the time being, Galvatron could hardly be more beautiful, and with no need and no crackle of excess energy from his crown, Cyclonus was not going to try to talk him into anything.

Though, hoping, he _had_ near-forcibly evicted the rest of the Decepticon army from his Lord's presence.

(It hadn't been particularly hard. Even on a good day, not many of them wanted to be near Lord Galvatron without good reason; and even those who did had learned that getting in between Cyclonus and his Lord was a dangerous proposition even if _Galvatron_ wasn't going to slag you for it.)

If the others had been there, Cyclonus would have stood, would have been ready to defend and support his Lord more than worship him. As it was--he knelt, respectful and--on the stone floor--_comfortable_.

(How could he be otherwise?)

"Cyclonus," Lord Galvatron said. Hearing his name, in his Lord's voice, with no anger, no blame--there was nothing better.

"Mighty One," Cyclonus returned, and Galvatron's pleased growl suggested that he approved of Cyclonus' tones as well.

"Most loyal of my followers." Galvatron reached out and squeezed an antenna--hard, and it would, from anyone else, be incongruous with his relatively gentle tone. But Cyclonus expected--craved--nothing else.

Cyclonus moaned, appreciating his Lord's touch fully. "Loyal to you. Always."

"They got away today." Galvatron stroked the antenna more gently for a moment, running his hands over his finger marks.

"Not all--oh, Mighty One!--all of them, my Lord." Cyclonus moved his hands down to rub Galvatron's pedes--firmly, but not painfully. "Soundwave reports two confirmed kills, and we were able to bring one of them back for _interrogation_."

"Mmm, yes." Galvatron moved into Cyclonus' touch, exposing new areas for him to work on. He kept playing with the antennae--in the delightful way that he did, less because it aroused Cyclonus (although it did, very much) and more because they were _there_ and they were _his_ and he _could_. "Interrogation." He punctuated this with a particularly hard squeeze--Cyclonus gasped but did not let it interrupt his important work on Galvatron's pedes. "Later."

"Yes, Mighty One." Cyclonus looked forward to it, but he was glad Galvatron hadn't suggested they do it _now_. As much as he liked making prisoners scream for his Lord's pleasure (if they wanted _information_, that was what Soundwave was for; Soundwave might be working on the prisoner now, in fact) being alone with Lord Galvatron, with his Lord healthy and happy and _not in pain_ was just perfect.

"But not much later," Galvatron said, fervently, and squeezed both antennae at once.

Cyclonus arched. "Yes! Mighty One!" He started working on Galvatron's ankles. It was going to start being a seduction, soon, although truth be told Cyclonus didn't care one way or another right now whether or not Galvatron interfaced with him. Just continuing to do this would be more than enough.

"Soon we will retake Cybertron. We've already spread our influence a light-vorn out from Chaar!" It was true, more or less--mostly this included planets only slightly richer in resources than Chaar itself, but it was expansion, and it was far, far better than their condition had been when the Decepticons had first arrived. "Cybertron." Galvatron's voice shifted, slightly, the way it did, sometimes, when Cybertron or the pre-Unicron past came up, and which Cyclonus wasn't ever entirely comfortable with. "Home." A hand moved down to grab one of Cyclonus' wings, pulling his arm up as well.

Cyclonus allowed it to be pulled. Galvatron laid the arm in his lap, playing with the wing and not particularly bothering about what the rest of the arm was up to. It wound up resting gently against Galvatron's thigh, bent, with the hand pressing out against Galvatron's kneecap. Rubbing the thigh would have been nice, but Galvatron seemed to want control of that arm for now, and who was Cyclonus to deny him?

In any case, Galvatron was shifting out of the weird mood again. "And then the Universe! _All_ will fall before us. Autobots, Quintessons, Junkions, _fleshlings_\--they will serve us or they will die. As _I_ choose."

"Yes, Mighty One," Cyclonus agreed, happily. One of Galvatron's hands slipped back around his antenna, and he gave his leader a low moan. Not that Galvatron was truly paying attention him, but that was as it should be--his optics were bright and far away, dreaming of conquests to come.

"And there will always be enough energon. _Always_. We will never have to work or serve for it again." He bent the top of the antenna over, doubling a small piece of it over against itself.

"_Only_ serve you." Galvatron's cannon was in range, and Cyclonus pressed a reverent kiss to the tip of it--a reminder, as much as anything else, that he was Galvatron's to destroy.

Galvatron didn't take it is a correction, or notice Cyclonus words very much at all, although he did keep the cannon in Cyclonus' face for more kisses. The hand in Galvatron's lap was released and Cyclonus started rubbing Galvatron's thighs in the way that he knew his Lord liked--at least when he was functioning well enough to allow Cyclonus to touch him.

Galvatron's cannon heated up against Cyclonus' lips. It could be a good sign or a bad one, and part of Cyclonus was, as always, waiting for a sudden mood shift, but it seemed like a good thing, for now. Galvatron used Cyclonus' antenna as a handle, pressing his face further into his cannon and moving it to the bits he wanted kissed. "_Mine_."

Cyclonus wasn't entirely sure if Galvatron meant him or the universe, but either way, he agreed. "Yours." The word was muffled by the rim of Galvatron's cannon, but his intent was absolutely clear.

"On my lap." Galvatron didn't wait for Cyclonus to comply before hauling upwards on his antenna, pulling his cannon off of Cyclonus' mouth to grab him by a wing and haul up on that, too.

"_Yes_, my Lord." Cyclonus assisted Galvatron in getting himself up and arranged so that he was straddling Galvatron's legs on the throne.

Once Cyclonus was settled, Galvatron let go of the wing and tapped at Cyclonus' chestplates. "Open."

Cyclonus' chestplates parted almost without a conscious thought, obedient like the rest of him. "Yes, Mighty Galvatron!"

Galvatron bit at his neck cables. "Connect us." He wasn't going to be opening his chestplates to Cyclonus--that was almost unthinkable. But interface cables, while Cyclonus was exposed for his Lord to touch and play with, were not.

Galvatron--ever impatient, even in a good mood--reached in to press his hands to Cyclonus' spark casing, sending a bolt of pleasure and a wave of alarm messages through Cyclonus' systems, but Cyclonus did not let it divert him from his task. He had performed it before under even more distracting circumstances. His cable and port, in this case, were at the bottom of the spark chamber, easily enough exposed; the appropriate pair on Galvatron were located under the red center panel at his waist. A simple two connections and he could feel a rush of excitement and pleasure and _ownership_ from Galvatron, as he sent back his pleasure and submission and adoration and his delight in being owned, being exposed, being able to please his Lord.

Connected like this, Galvatron actually _could_ directly command Cyclonus' systems, and he did so, opening the spark casing to expose Cyclonus to him fully. The flood of pleasure from Cyclonus' systems as Galvatron grabbed his naked spark, squeezing it in his fingers and demonstrating both that he could kill Cyclonus with a touch, with a _thought_, and that he _wasn't going to_, that he was going to give Cyclonus--and himself--pleasure instead. Both of them yelled, or screamed, or growled, Cyclonus couldn't even tell, right now, and his engine was vibrating hard through him and his Lord and the throne and probably the whole room, almost as though Galvatron were riding through space in him.

A hundred astroseconds of rapture--energy flooding from Cyclonus and into Galvatron and being sent back, possession and being possessed, Cyclonus' life literally in his Lord's hands--and their systems could no longer sustain it, failsafes tripped and Cyclonus fell into overload, his helm dropping down on Galvatron's shoulder, twisted antennae colliding with the back of the throne, as Galvatron's systems flooded as well.

It was Cyclonus who first had the coherence to say anything. "I am yours. Always. My Lord."

"Of _course_ you are." It might almost have been scornful, but it seemed more like a simple acknowledgment and statement of fact. Galvatron pulled his hands away from Cyclonus' spark--the casing of which snapped shut behind them, as Cyclonus' automatic systems cared about self-preservation even when Cyclonus himself did not--and pressed one of them against Cyclonus' mouth. The hand was hot and the paint was somewhat melted, although there was no more damage than that. Galvatron was built to take far more than a mere spark's energy, but Cyclonus was more than happy to soothe his Lord's hand with his glossa.

Cyclonus said something around the fingers that was probably "Mighty One," although it was hard to tell. Galvatron gave him an indulgent laugh, and used his free hand to disconnect their cables, push his second's chestplates back together, and settle him more comfortably onto his lap. Then he pulled his hand out of Cyclonus' mouth and offered the other one to be licked.

It was a very, very good day.


End file.
